


An Invitation

by 84Reesdy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post Second Wizard War - AU, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/84Reesdy/pseuds/84Reesdy
Summary: Severus and Hermione have settled into the quietest life they can following the end of the Second Wizarding World. They own a little business and live in their cottage with their daughter Violet. An invitation for a holiday may stir things up a bit, but who says that has to be a bad thing?Mature: Suggestive ThemesOne-Shot.....for now. May continue the holiday in the future.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	An Invitation

“Bloody bird,” Severus mumbled as he tried to straighten his now crinkled daily prophet. His lips curled downward as the owl shook its head and tried to steady itself; the letter had planted itself firmly in a stick of softened butter, “You’d think after all this time the Weasley’s would have invested in a halfway decent messenger by now.” His distaste for the family or at least their expansive brood went back years and years to Bill’s early years at Hogwarts. It was mostly harmless.

Hermione hid her smile by turning back to the stove, stirring the morning’s porridge as she added a flavor changing serum to liven it up a bit. She’d never say it aloud, but she somewhat enjoyed her husband’s jealousy towards her high school sweetheart. Ron had been on Snape’s last nerve from the first day of their first year - being friends with Harry didn’t help his cause. But the few years post-war and post-Hogwarts when she and Ron still dated - he’d clearly detested him the most. 

She’d had no idea Severus fancied her at all until the first Order reunion after the breakup. She’d been single all of a month. He’d approached her straight away, which seemed a bit odd at the time. Even more odd was later in the evening when he’d asked her to dance. She sighed happily at the thought of dancing with him. His long legs and smooth movements, his quiet confidence. 

“Oh Papa, Errol’s a good bird, just a bit clumsy,” Violet leaned far over the table, having to kneel in her chair as she stroked the greying birds feathers. She offered him a bit of her scone. The bird gently nibbled her fingers, causing her to giggle and her eyes to flash purple. She plucked the letter from the butter, her tiny hands careful as she used her napkin to wipe the mess from the envelope, “See, all’s well, Papa,” 

She waved as Errol nearly missed the open window, flying off.

He held out his hand as Violet clammored over the chairs around the table to him. She placed the letter in his waiting palm as she stood on a chair next to him. She craned her neck to see the letter. 

“It’s for you,” He said, reading the greeting line, recognizing Molly Weasley’s flowy penmanship. He held the letter behind him as Hermione plucked it from his fingers.

“Oh, how sweet. Molly wants us to come for a holiday. I’d imagine they have all sorts of room in the new burrow with everyone grown and gone. What do you think, Sev? Fancy a drive out into the countryside?” She smirked knowing his thoughts by now. He’d stare off and remind her that apparition was far more convenient than her fossil fuel driven muggle contraption. She’s retort with a defence that it was only mentioned in a cliche’d manner. 

“Papa, Papa, Papa, can we go??” Violet now climbed in his lap, her tiny legs with their pointy, jabby knees digging into his thigh as she ascended his tall form, “We ‘aven’t seen Aunt Molly in ages,” She begged, trying not to facetiously pout. Her curly black pigtails bounced as she attempted to contain her squirm of excitement. 

His sigh almost sounded annoyed, though both girls knew it was his last line of resistance before he’d give in. 

“Will that daft git, Ronald, be there?” He picked his paper back up and shook it to straighten the creases; Violet turned in his lap to read along with him, laying her head back against his chest. 

“Doubtful,” Hermione was doing a poor job of hiding her amusement. She placed the bowls on the table, joining them now. She creamed and sugared Violet’s bowl before preparing her own, “He’s travelling with a regional Quidditch team as an alternate. Likely Molly misses the din of people around. That’d be my guess for the invite.” She bit the corner off her toast as his dark eyes peered over the top of his paper to meet hers. Though it was covered by the rest of the Daily Prophet, she knew he held a sour countenance. 

“I know you’d rather not be particularly social, but it might be nice to holiday. Just a few days?” She appealed to him with a bit of a compromise from the week long stay Molly had offered. 

“Papa, we can get some shrivelfigs! Aunt Molly has that lovely grove in the back. I bet there’s lots of good ingredients we could get for the laboratory!” Violet might have been just a small girl, barely the age of five, but she was clever and intuitive - she knew how to persuade her father in a way that didn’t make him feel taken advantage of, but rather part of the advantageous.

“I suppose there are worse places to take our holiday -” He waited longer than necessary to affirm his participation, “Will the store be properly staffed?” He questioned Hermione, laying his paper down once more. Violet looked back and forth between her parents. 

“As if I hadn’t already considered that,” Hermione cocked an eyebrow as she pointed Violet to her seat. She wriggled from her father's lap, but didn’t once take her concentration from the conversation, “We were due for some time away from the apothecary, so I’d already filled any vacancies.” 

“Put your napkin over your jumper, little miss,” Severus said just before she was about to blindly scoop a heaping spoonful. She tucked a napkin into her neckline, protecting the green velvet jumper, covering the silvery embroidered ‘V’, “We could use a bit of countryside,”

Hermione knew that was as close to an affirmative answer she’d wrangle from her husband. 

“Yaaay!!!” Violet cheered, flinging her spoon in her pumping fists. The porridge on it sailed through the air, landing on her father’s freshly pressed clothing. Luckily his cloak was still hanging by the door, but his trousers and black buttoned coat had a less lucky fate. Violet went wide eyed, covering her gaping mouth with her hand. Hermione’s eyes widened as well, but her hand concealed a smile of amusement more so than a gasp of shock. With Violet being so young and unable to legally practice magical spells, they did a number of things without them. Occasionally they would teach her something or user a bit of magic here and there, but in this moment, Hermione could see that he wanted to whip out his wand and clean the soiled garment, but her eyes warned him not to. He pursed his lips the way he always did that made the corners almost curl upwards. 

“I’m sorry, Papa…” Violet seemed apprehensive, worried she might draw scorn. But as always, Severus remained calm with her - Hermione was often amazed at his even temperament when it came to raising their child. She’d witnessed many times where his patience was thin at best and his temper short-fused. 

“Violet, you must remember to be aware of yourself and your actions,” He tried brushing away the mess, but the black cloth shown stains all to obviously, “I ought to change again,” His own napkin snapped to the table as he stood. The chair legs scooted against the floor. He glanced back at his daughter whose eyes flashed purple again behind the welled up tears, “I don’t care for this shirt much, anyway,” He did not smile but there was a subtle wink as he excused himself. Hermione wasn’t even sure he really had until the tender smile on her daughter’s face gave him away. 

“Finish up and go collect your books, it's almost time for school,” Hermione ushered her daughter to finish breakfast. She finished the last few bites of her own before excusing herself from the table as well.

Severus hadn’t been particularly thrilled with the idea of his child attending a muggle primary school. It took quite a bit of coaxing and outright bribery to win over his agreement. 

“Who’d have ever thought that a five-year-old girl would have Severus Snape wrapped around her tiny little pink painted finger?” Hermione teased Severus as she entered their bedroom. He was unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt, stone faced as ever. Though she teased, she still approached him, starting to unbutton the main division of his coat. 

“I could imagine you’re somewhat jealous of that fact. So many men are similarly taken with their wives while you lose out to a toddler.” His sarcasm and satire were always so dry and subtle that a less keen ear wouldn’t have picked up on them. But after all this time, Hermione had learned much about being in the affections of Severus Snape. He was clever and funny, but in his own unique fashion. You had to work to understand him and not react with too much impulse. His rapport was challenging and its what Hermione needed to stay engaged and interested.

They were far more of a pair than either of them (or any one else on Earth for that matter) had imagined. 

“I’m not worried about my place in this family, not one bit,” She replied with a confidence that matched his wit, “I’m not easily threatened, darling,” Her words sounded sweet, but they were equally venomous. 

“Oh?” He cocked his eyebrow, his eyes darting towards their bedroom door, barely cracked open, “Are you also not easily…” His hand slid behind her neck, snaking up into her hair as he grabbed a handful of her curly mane, “manipulated?” He titled her head back as that small gasp escaped her lips. She had to steady her body by pressing into his. His chest and torso were bare as his shirts hung open. 

“If I recall correctly, you respond rather well to being told e x a c t l y what to do,” His voice quieted - he leaned forward, letting his hot breath and lips graze the exposed arc of her neck, “In fact, I bet if I slip my hand down your knickers I’ll find a soaking wet cunt desperate for,” he purposefully stunted his words, his eyes drinking in every feature, every instinctual reaction of her body, “Satisfaction,” 

“You think so?” She tried to sound contrary, but she struggled, “Cocky sod, aren’t you…” 

A chuckled hummed in his throat; that sound alone could obliviate her knickers in an instant.

“I like it when your feisty,” He released her hair and the two stood toe to toe, breath to breath reveling in their own sexual tension. 

“I’m ready!!” Violet’s cheery voice called from down the stairs and Hermione tried to unflush her cheeks. 

“Perhaps when you return from dropping Violet off, we could start our own little holiday a bit early,” He suggested, his finger tip tracing the line of her lower lip. She’d grown into such an incredibly attractive and desirable witch of a woman. He couldn’t believe how often he was compelled to touch her. 

Hermione smirked, kissing the tip of his finger before suckling it, letting her tongue slowly and lazily swirl around it. 

“Perhaps when I get back, Professor Snape might feel like putting a naughty little school girl in her place…” She suggested before kissing his lips softly and retreating from their room to leave him with that thought. 

She’d been surprisingly open to being sexually adventurous with him; for them roleplaying wasn’t entirely taboo, but considering he had been her professor, this was maybe a little more so. He redressed in something he often wore as a teacher, imagining the way Hermione still fit marvelously well into her school uniform, though she filled out the sweater slightly more now. She’d fashioned the skirt slightly shorter, the v-neck lower; she played the part of a naughty student well considering how well behaved of a student she’d been...for the most part. 

Just as he buttoned up his shirt, Violet burst through the door, her arms wide open for her father. He knelt down without hesitation and accepted her into his own embrace. She was a spectacular child and he loved her deeply, moreso than he’d even imagined. 

“Love you, Papa,” She whispered, pulling away slightly.  
“And I you, my little flower,” He tapped her forehead with his own then gently nuzzled the tip of his nose to hers. As she ran off again, Hermione stood in the doorway smiling. Severus Snape as a doting, affectionate father (at least in his own way) was not a sight that anyone could have predicted, crystal ball or no.

“You know, the two of you can be nauseatingly sweet sometimes,” She ribbed him a little before following their daughter out of the house.

“Disrespecting the faculty,” He murmured to himself before smiling wickedly, “That’s worth at least one detention, Miss Granger.”


End file.
